


Drinking Up Sunshine

by withthekeyisking



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bonding, Brainwashing, Conditioning, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Hurt Dick Grayson, Jason Todd Feels, League of Assassins Jason Todd, M/M, Memory Loss, Mute Dick Grayson, Muteness, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Recovery, The League of Assassins (DCU), Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29662521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthekeyisking/pseuds/withthekeyisking
Summary: After his resurrection, Jason Todd decides to remain with the League instead of returning to Gotham, closing the door on ever reuniting with Bruce.He's not expecting for Talia to walk in one day with Dick Grayson at her heels, with golden eyes and a few more knives strapped to his person than Jason thinks daddy would approve of.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd
Comments: 46
Kudos: 355





	Drinking Up Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [epistemology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/epistemology/gifts), [Morimaitar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morimaitar/gifts).



> <3

Jason is in the middle of a lesson when they arrive.

He doesn't bother turning around; he recognizes the feeling of Talia, and dismisses whoever her companion is for the moment, sure that if they're with Talia, they aren't a present threat to him.

Whatever Talia's here for clearly isn't urgent, because she doesn't make her presence further known, content to wait near the doorway while Jason works. It's possible this is an inspection of some kind, Talia checking in on Jason's progress, which would be irritating if so. He thought they passed the need for that a long time ago, and it has been quite a while since he had any onlookers while he teaches.

With nothing to be done about it now, Jason refocuses on his class.

His students are in the middle of sparring, each of them with a blindfold wrapped around their eyes. This isn't a new exercise, it's one Jason has employed many times in the past with various classes; at this point in their training, it's a good way for him to get a look about where they stand in terms of their instincts. It's one thing to be able to fight when you can see every hit coming, it's another skill all together to be able to do that with your biggest sense removed.

They all are about where Jason expects them to be. The more skilled of his students are doing far better than the ones who have been struggling so far, and Jason withholds his disappointment that they're going to fail out of this. Jason likes to think he's a good teacher, has had many excellent assassins emerge from his training, and it always rankles when some simply don't take to the training.

He calls out an order for them all to stop and hit the showers. He's letting them go sooner than he normally would—he likes working his students until they're breathing heavily and close to dropping—but Talia's presence _has_ made him curious, and he'd rather get whatever this is over with.

He turns to face the door, eyebrow cocking in preparation of asking her what the hell she's doing here. His eyes flick briefly over the man behind her, and surprise hits him at the sight that greets him. Golden eyes, black veins. What the hell is a meta doing here? Not just a meta, but one with multiple weapons hidden in their clothes.

"What's going on, Talia?" Jason asks, turning his attention to the woman.

"Hello, Jason," Talia greets, ignoring the question for the moment. "I see your latest group is coming along well. Some you should let go of, though."

Jason ignores the chastisement, letting it roll right off. It's been years since Jason felt the need to earn Talia's praise; he's proven himself capable a thousand times over by now. He doesn't need her _permission_ to manage his students the way he wants.

"What are you _doing_ here, Talia?" Jason presses. "And with Cat Eyes, over there."

The slightest curve of Talia's lips, a hint of her usual superior smile. "Look at him again, Jason. You might find something familiar."

Withholding a sigh, Jason slides his gaze back over to the man, examining him more intently this time. Talia's games have never been particularly enjoyable, and he doesn't feel like humoring her right now. He's tired, it's been a long day. He'd like to eat dinner and head to bed.

The man's features _are_ a little familiar, though. Jason's seen that jawline before, that nose, that eyebrow with a small scar cutting through it. He knows this face from somewhere, he...

It clicks. And Jason's heart thuds into his stomach.

"What the _fuck."_

Dick Grayson blinks placidly back at him, looking unbothered by the outburst and completely unsurprised to be standing in front of someone believed to be dead for years. He stands in a simple parade rest behind Talia, hands clasped behind his back, body relaxed but somehow still threatening, still at the ready.

It's almost incomprehensible, Dick's presence here. What's basically a training facility for the League of Assassins—no, Batman's _Golden Boy_ should be so very far away from a place like this. He _certainly_ shouldn't be decked out in weapons, or look content at an al Ghul's side, or have no reaction to the fact that Jason is actually alive, after all these years. And the golden eyes? Those horrible _veins?_

What the fuck is going on?

"Talia, what the hell is this?" His eyes dart briefly away from Dick to the woman herself, and then back, unable to take his eyes off of the more likely threat right now for long. Talia won't attack him, not without warning, not after everything. But Dick is...rather an unknown, after all this time. With all the changes that are plain as day. Jason has no idea what to expect from him.

"Richard's been in a bit of trouble lately," Talia says carelessly, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she gestures to Dick. "I saved him."

"You saved him," Jason echoes doubtfully. Is she trying to imply that she brought Dick back, like she brought _him_ back? But the way Dick looks right now—Jason has never known the Lazarus Pit to have an effect like _that._ No, this is something else entirely.

"Yes," Talia says, looking amused by Jason's disbelief. "What do you know of the Court of Owls?"

Jason frowns. "The nursery rhyme? What's that have to do with anything?"

"Oh, they're very real," Talia tells him. "It's an organization that exists in your home city, manipulating events from the shadows. And their assassins are called _Talons,_ humans that are modified and brainwashed. Richard became their latest subject."

_...Speak not a whispered word of them, or they'll send the Talon for your head._

Well. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Nightwing went missing a year and a half ago," Talia continues. "It seems the Court snatched him up."

Jason looks at Dick again. He's had no real reaction to what Talia's said, simply looking on. His gaze is sharp, attentive, clearly very present. He looks vaguely curious, but nothing strong. He watches and waits, silent and...deadly.

Dick Grayson. An assassin.

"So how did he end up with you?"

"I had business in Gotham," Talia says, and the brief clippedness of the words implies her 'business' had something to do with Bruce. "The Court were making moves. They got in my way, and I in theirs. They sent an assassin after me." She glances at Dick, who meets her eyes levelly. "We fought. I killed him and then unmasked him. When I saw it was my beloved's first child...Well, when he came back to life, I took him with me."

It's almost like Jason's brain record-scratches. _"Excuse me?_ Did you just say he _came back to life?"_

"Whatever the Court does to their assassins gives them extreme regenerative abilities," Talia explains, almost dismissively. "I doubt there are many things that could take Richard down for good, as he is now."

Jason feels the irrational urge to laugh. It's kind of funny, in a seriously fucked up way. Bruce preaches the sanctity of life, and now _two_ of his 'kids' have become killers. Accomplished killers, seems like. And both have even _died._ Jason always figured he was the failure, that there was something wrong with _him_ that led him to where he is, that kept Bruce from avenging him.

But it turns out that's not true. Turns out Bruce has formed a habit of failing the ones who depend on him.

Jason pushes all of that from his mind, refusing to ruminate on it right now. Thinking of Bruce never leads Jason anywhere good.

"And so, what, he just followed you home like a duckling?" Jason asks incredulously. "They sent him to _kill you_ and then he just...let you take him away?"

"His existence was pain and subservience," Talia says. "He did not want to be there, not truly. I gave him an alternative."

Jason waits for more details, but Talia offers nothing else about whatever happened. What convinced Dick, apparently a brainwashed, undead assassin, to abandon Gotham and head off into the world with _Talia al Ghul_ of all people.

If he had that much freedom, why not go back to Bruce? Why would he—

Well. It's not like Jason is one to talk. He's free, after all. He's been able to do whatever he wants for years now, and he's never tried to go back to Bruce.

"Is he going to say anything at any point?" Jason asks gruffly, uncomfortable with the persistent thoughts of his adoptive father.

"Richard?" Talia prompts, but the way she says it clearly shows she doesn't expect an answer.

Sure enough, Dick just cocks his head, eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as if in question. He says nothing.

"He doesn't speak," Talia explains after another moment of silence, having made her point. "His vocal chords are intact and his tongue is still in place, so it is not because of a physical ailment. I remember Richard was a rather talkative child—I believe the Court may have trained that out of him."

'Trained' it out of him. The word is so _polite,_ but Jason knows what she means. They tortured him. They beat him, and conditioned him, and forced his voice out of him. No clever quips or smart aleck remarks from their perfect assassin.

"Why doesn't he know me?" Jason finds himself asking, far more vulnerably than he means to. Because that's what this is, what it must be. Dick's complete lack of response to Jason's existence, the void of recognition of any kind—he doesn't know who Jason is. And maybe they weren't close when Jason was Robin, but they weren't far enough that Dick wouldn't _remember_ him.

At least, god, Jason hopes not.

"I'm not sure," Talia says, tilting her head. She has enough grace to not comment on Jason's vulnerability, and he appreciates it. He has no doubt she's tucking it away for later, though. "He didn't seem to know who I was, either. Another byproduct of what the Court did to him, I imagine."

This is all so fucked up. How did Bruce not know about this? Not _do_ something?

"Why did you bring him here, Talia? I doubt it was just for a family reunion. And it sure as hell isn't because he needs _training."_

"I wish for him to stay here with you," Talia says, and Jason's jaw drops. "He and I are not done, but I believed this a better location for him to stay than directly in Nanda Parbat."

"Talia, come on," Jason protests. "You want me to hold a Dead Robins Support Club?"

"No, I want you to allow another unsteady ex-pupil of the Bat to remain on the premises with you so that my father doesn't have all the access to him that he could possibly want."

Something sour twists in Jason's gut. Talia tried to keep him away from Ra's too, back when he was particularly vulnerable. When he was really just a shell, and then after, when he was so filled with rage. Under Ra's' care he could've easily been manipulated into far worse than what Talia had him do.

Handing Dick to Ra's as he is now? Yeah, Jason can see how many ways that might go wrong. He wouldn't put it past Talia to use Dick in some way, but it'll be _miles_ above whatever Ra's would have in store.

"Fine," Jason agrees with a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, he can stay."

Talia smiles, satisfied, but he doubts she ever thought he would do anything but agree in the end. "Excellent." She turns to Dick then. "I will see you again soon, Richard. Be good."

Dick inclines his head, and then turns to watch her go before facing Jason again and looking at him expectantly.

Right. Okay, he can do this.

"Follow me," Jason says, and turns without waiting for confirmation, heading across the room and then out the door at the opposite end, leading the way through a few hallways.

He has to strain his ears to hear Dick following him, the older man's footsteps almost completely silent, his presence unobtrusive. Trained to not be seen or heard, just a shadow in the background, always waiting until he's needed.

What a wild difference from the Dick Grayson Jason knew. Dick was always good at concealing himself if he needed to, it was basically a required skill in the Batman School of Superheroing, but when not on the job he never hesitated to make himself known. He was personable and clever and charming, never one to fade into the background. Maybe not one to seek out being the center of attention, but still comfortable when finding himself there.

Not this...this.

They exit the building and out into the back field, the sun still bright in the sky despite the late hour. It really shows off the place Jason has made his home, the mini-paradise that is this complex. A large building out front for training, many rooms with so many different purposes, plus a dormitory for the students and a mess hall for meals.

But Jason's own place is out back, across the green field and colorful garden, over the small bridge that covers the river. A glance behind himself shows Dick looking around with a faint smile, but his eyes are squinted almost all the way closed.

Those eyes of his—extra sensitivity? Jason supposes there are pros and cons to enhancements like that.

They reach Jason's house, and he disarms the security measures to lead the way inside. He can tell Dick is taking note of everything, but it seems more like instinct than actively trying to case the place. It still makes Jason's shoulders tighten a little.

He walks briskly through the downstairs, not in the mood to give a tour or explain anything at the moment. He takes the stairs two at a time, and curves quickly around the corner to lead the way to the spare room. It's been a little while since someone stayed with him, the last time being Damian about four months ago, but the six-year-old is so minimalist that the room looks like no one's stayed there in years.

"This is your room," Jason says awkwardly, stepping aside to allow Dick to enter. Dick glances around curiously, hand trailing along the wood of the desk as he explores. There's a faint furrow between his eyebrows that Jason can't tell the meaning of, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to look at the room from an outsider's perspective. It's no Wayne Manor, that's for sure.

"It's...not much," Jason says, trying to sound uncaring. Dick turns back to him, giving him a peculiar look. Jason wishes he would speak, would just _tell_ him what he's thinking. Dick was hard to read even before all of this shit, and now, with so much different, Jason has no idea where to begin.

"Dinner's in an hour," Jason says shortly, and turns for the door, striding down the hall to his room without another word.

* * *

Jason takes a shower to wash off the day's work out, and then settles in the living room to read for a little while. He half expects Dick to show up, to explore the house since Jason didn't say he couldn't, but the man doesn't leave his room at all.

After about half an hour, Jason heads into the kitchen and starts making dinner.

Some nights, Jason eats with his students in the mess hall, too tired to muster up the energy to make himself anything, or simply so he can have some rare company that doesn't involve intensive training. But that definitely can't happen tonight.

Jason has no idea yet how he's going to explain Dick's presence here. It's not like Dick isn't a bit of an anomaly, considering what he looks like. He's bound to be noticed, if he hasn't been already. People are going to wonder what the fuck is going on, much like Jason did.

Then again, does Jason actually have to provide them with any explanation? He's their teacher, their _master_ while they're here. He owes them nothing. He could remain completely silent on the subject, let their minds run wild. The hell could they do about it?

Definitely sounds like a better solution than trying to come up with some bullshit statement to explain the Talon hanging around.

Exactly an hour after Jason left Dick alone, the man appears in the kitchen behind him. The fact that he steps on one of the creaky boards in the hallway—that Jason left in on purpose, when he first moved in—gives Jason warning that he's about to have company, and it unsettles Jason that he feels like Dick stepped on the board on purpose.

"Sit at the table," Jason says, gesturing without turning away from the stove. "Be done in a minute."

He hears one of the kitchen table chairs get pulled out, then scooted back in. When Jason finishes up and turns for the table, he finds Dick sitting in the chair across from Jason's usual one.

Jason makes a face; his usual seat in the best one, with no windows at his back and a clear view of both exists. It's the one that, instinctively, Dick should've wanted. The fact that he instead chose one that puts his back towards the sliding glass door—that's purposeful. Jason just doesn't get _why._

He doesn't ask, though. It's not like he'd get an answer anyway, with the whole not talking thing. So instead he wordlessly places a plate and utensils in front of Dick and settles down at the table himself, digging in.

Dick eats quietly and quickly, and then Jason can feel him watching him. He ignores it, opening his book to where he left off and reading as he eats. It's hard to focus on the story, what with the dangerous assassin sitting across from him and staring, but Jason's read _Frankenstein_ plenty of times by now so at least he knows what's happening, even if he's barely reading.

After five minutes of becoming more and more tense in reaction to Dick's focus being on him, Jason lifts his head and glares at him, snapping, _"What?"_

Dick blinks, but doesn't react otherwise. It draws a scowl to Jason's face, frustrated and on edge. This whole situation is so fucking insane. It's _Dick,_ but it's not Dick at the same time, and they can't even fucking communicate because an evil bird-themed organization tortured the voice out of him.

How did this even happen? How did Bruce not _find him?_ A year and a half, Talia said. And Dick's been right there in Gotham, so how the hell did Bruce not do anything? At least Jason's been halfway around the world—Dick was _right there_ and Bruce failed to find him. Was he too busy with the third Robin? No need to look for the first when he has his shiny protégé right there?

An old bitterness hits him then, and he lowers his gaze back to his book so he doesn't have to look at the way Dick's eyebrows have furrowed in something like concern.

It's wrong, to see him like this. Dick is supposed to be—supposed to be _whole,_ supposed to be the shining example that none of them can ever measure up to. This is just—this is an abomination, a twisted reality where they took what made Dick special and broke it into pieces. And now Jason's supposed to...what? Put him back together?

Shit, Jason's barely managed to get his _own_ shit together, he doubts he can manage it for someone else. Let alone someone as fucked up as Dick is right now.

Maybe he should send him to Gotham, to Bruce. Bruce would know what to do about this, would know somebody who could reverse the effects or even just bring Dick back to himself a little. To Hell with what Talia wants, maybe that's what _should_ happen.

But...how would Bruce actually react? Jason would like to think the man would be simply overjoyed to have his son back, but Dick's a killer now. An _assassin_ to top it all off. Will the fact that he did it against his will matter to Bruce? Or will he just see another killer? Or worse—Dick doesn't really look human anymore; what if Bruce sees this as an undead perversion of who Dick used to be? What if he doesn't think it's really _Dick_ anymore?

Jason doesn't know if he can risk that.

And there's another piece of him, another selfish, ugly piece, that doesn't _want_ to give Dick back. Bruce doesn't deserve to have Jason fix his mess, have his special son returned to him when he failed to find him in the first place. Dick is a fuck up now, just like Jason. A freak of nature. And maybe...maybe Jason is selfishly glad to not be the only one anymore. Maybe Jason is selfishly pleased to see the Golden Boy be not so golden anymore.

It wars with the part of Jason that wants to scream about how wrong this is. Dick was never supposed to be this. Not _Dick._ He was supposed to stay infuriatingly perfect. He's not supposed to have flaws, or fall this low. He's not supposed to be brainwashed and turned into an assassin. He's supposed to be the person who _saves_ the brainwashed assassins, and does it with flourish.

Jason has tried to not put Dick on a pedestal, but that doesn't mean he was ever successful. It's hard to not have at least a little hero worship, when the person who came before you is someone like Dick Grayson. Jason got over his puppy crush years ago, but with Dick in front of him now...

Well, it just makes him _sad._

A hand appears in Jason's field of vision, settling gently on the table by the corner of his book. Jason's gaze snaps up, and he finds Dick looking at him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow, head tilted slightly to the side. Confusion and concern, and a strange awkwardness that Jason never thought he'd see Dick Grayson wear.

The question is clear, though. Even without speech. _Are you okay?_

Dick doesn't know him from Adam, but still finds a way to act like they've been thick as thieves for years. Or hell, maybe this is just how Dick is with people. Maybe it's something the Court couldn't wipe away completely.

"I'm fine," Jason says. "This is just a really fucking weird situation."

Dick nods, but despite the openness of his expression he doesn't look like he actually understands what Jason means. Not that Jason expects him to, really. All of this shit must be confusing as hell.

"We used to know each other," Jason blurts out, and Dick blinks. His arm draws back, but he leans forward, forearms braced on the table as he looks at Jason intently. "We...years ago. We knew each other."

Dick nods slowly, but it just looks like acknowledgement, digesting the information. Not actual recognition. There's a question in his eyes, though. He wants to know more. He wants to know what Jason means.

But explaining—that would mean talking about all the shit that's happened, talking about the past. And Jason's moved very solidly past all that, did it _years_ ago. He doesn't want to revisit any of it.

With Dick being here though...he doubts he has much of a choice in the matter. Shit's going to come up whether he likes it or not.

But for now? For now, he can avoid as much as he damn well pleases.

He pushes to his feet, taking his plate over to the sink and beginning to wash it. He can feel Dick's gaze on him, but resolutely ignores it, putting the plate back in the cabinet once it's washed and dried. He heads back over to the table and picks up his book, avoiding looking at Dick, and then heads for the hall, walking away without looking back.

He can feel the weight of Dicks eyes on him long after he's out of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, by this point in the timeline Damian should technically be older than six, but it's my fic and I do what I want _*finger guns*_  
>   
>  Hope y'all enjoyed! Next chapter will have Dick's POV!


End file.
